


Amour, Amour

by Jackie_Gaytona



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Anal, Angst, Dirty Talk, First Time, Guillermo in a suit, Loss of Virginity, M/M, One Night Stands, Party, Smut, Wedding, drunk Guillermo, horny Laszlo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25589260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackie_Gaytona/pseuds/Jackie_Gaytona
Summary: It wasn’t until they began to climb the stairs that Guillermo started to really worry.“Where are we going?” he squeaked. The words had come unbidden. He really did not want to know.“Your bedroom,” Laszlo said disdainfully, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.“Oh…” Guillermo exhaled, and said no more. He refused to think about where this was headed…because, he realized with great shame, he didn’t want to be led to disappointment. The alcohol was really messing with his head now. That had to be it. His hopeful anticipation wasn’t about Nandor or revenge or jealousy, or the fact that he often found himself strangely captivated by the pompous asshole in front him. No; this was purely the effects of too much vodka and too much sugar.---In which Guillermo and Nandor get lucky...just not with each other.
Relationships: Laszlo Cravensworth/Guillermo de la Cruz
Comments: 14
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m still reeling over the very big hint that Nandor is going to have a love interest in s03 and my brain is preparing for the worst (ie/ that it’s not going to be Guillermo) so this is my way of coping thanks.
> 
> Nandermo will always be my OTP. But I love the idea of Laszlo/Guillermo (Laszlermo?). There’s just so much dynamism to work with, because on top of everything else, they just can’t stand each other.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who reads my work and leaves comments/kudos! I've been too busy to interact here much lately but I really do appreciate it! <33

Guillermo was drunk, sad and horny. The night had been an extravagant affair for everybody except him: blood fountains and dripping goblets; glittering silks and sheer drapery; colourful lights spread out over a makeshift arch in the foyer (a shoddy wicker construction adorned with blood-red roses, that would later become a popular spot for stealing kisses). The violins had been soft and charming at the start of the night, but now, leading into the early hours of the morning, they were incessant and shrill. Their dissonance echoed through corridors and rooms and cast invisible shards through Guillermo’s temples, even from where he sat here in the relative safety of the little library (which had been converted into a familiar’s meeting room for the night).

He adjusted the hem of his suit jacket – it fit him well enough, but was made of stiff, scratchy linen. He had to admit the whole outfit did look nice on him. The jacket and trousers were plain black, but the vest beneath was made of silvery silk, brocaded with floral swirls that caught the candlelight and glinted. He’d even taken the time to neatly comb over his part and style it in place – albeit with a little too much gel. Nobody had commented on his getup, though. Once again, he’d been swept under the radar with all the other familiars; and he felt terribly overdressed compared to them.

Honestly, why did Laszlo and Nadja feel the need to have another wedding anyway? “ _Oh it’s a thing we do every few decades._ ” _“Remember that honeymoon in seventeen-fifty-three?” “Or that one wedding that turned into a full blood orgy? Cracking memories.”_

The house was _teeming_ with vampires: blood-suckers, energy-suckers, emotion-suckers. Jumping vampires, ghostly vampires, too many bats to count. Apparently Lamia was lurking about somewhere, though Guillermo questioned the validity of that claim. Still, there were women crying on the lounges, telling tired vampires about their dead dogs and their cancer-stricken grandmothers. There were vampires sucking the lifeblood out of humans in the darkest of corners (many of them virgins that Guillermo himself has painstakingly searched Staten Island for). Over there was Colin Robinson making friends with a group of other energy vampires who were subsequently draining each other. Everywhere you looked there were nightwalkers fucking. It was practically another orgy, and yet instead of being in the safety of his own room like he usually was at these events, Guillermo was glued here in the thick of it, trying to overcome a terrible shock that still made his legs weak, even after an hour of heavy drinking.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes in an attempt to fight off another dizzy spell. He was a miserable drunk, and quick to intoxicate, having only experienced a handful of drunken nights in the past. But it wasn’t just the alcohol and loneliness that was making him miserable. Nandor had a _date_. A pretty little thing. Young and modern, mid-twenties: short-cropped auburn hair, pale skin, freckles, big green eyes, covered head-to-toe in pastel pinks and violets and blues that matched her bubbly personality. She was a vibrant contrast to Nandor’s tall, dark and handsome. Where on earth had the vampire found her? And _how_ on earth had he convinced her to accompany him to a wedding?

Nadja and Laszlo had offered Guillermo a plus-one invitation, too. Not out of generosity, of course; they’d thought it was a great laugh, and on the very unlikely chance that he _did_ find a date? Well, the unfortunate soul would never make it out of the house alive. Guillermo hadn’t even bothered humoring the idea. Then again, he never thought Nandor would pick someone up. And _her_? Surely she was not his type? If she were, Guillermo had no chance of ever getting that close to his master.

He let out a quiet groan and sunk further into the pile of decorative cushions, closing his eyes. The room was dim, at least; and aside from the tiny live orchestra grating on his ears, the noise was fairly mellow. Arms splayed out across the lounge, feet up on an ottoman, he could almost take a nap.

If only it weren’t for the memory…

 _Don’t_ , he warned himself. _Don’t think about it. Just think about…about all these scary vampires. Think about being eaten alive. About protecting your friends. Think about anything except_ that.

But his mind went there. Of course it did. God, he’d been such an _idiot_. He was so used to looking out for Nandor’s safety that any unusual absence of the vampire – _especially_ at a party filled with creatures of questionable loyalty – instinctively signaled danger. In his tipsy state he had hurried around the room asking after him, dread rising in his core with every “I’m not sure” and “Who?” and “Are you a familiar, or dinner? I can smell virgin blood.” He vaguely remembered staggering down a dark hallway; of hearing loud, muffled noises reach his ears from Nandor’s room. Banging and yelling. He had thought Nandor was in danger! How was Guillermo to know that when he rushed into the room, he’d come face-to-face with Nandor aggressively pegging his date from behind, the smaller vampire naked and splayed out over the lid of his coffin?

“Guillermo!” he’d panted, “shut the fucking door!” Not once did he bother to stop thrusting, and even now Guillermo could see the dark pleasure in his eyes and the gleam of his bare skin beneath the thick hair on his chest and abdomen. Even now, sitting here feeling utterly dejected, it stirred something deep in his groin.

Guillermo’s body had gone numb with shock. He’d shut the door quickly, absent-mindedly, eyes bulging behind his glasses.

“ _Get_ _out_ _first_ , creep!” Nandor’s date shrieked.

That was when Guillermo had come to his senses, and he got out of there in a heartbeat, slamming the door shut behind him. He’d staggered back down the hallway, the house spinning around him. He was nauseous; was certain he was going to faint. But instead of retreating to his room and bawling into his pillow like he should have, he’d walked numbly back to the bar fridge set up in the library and pulled out another sugary vodka drink. He hadn’t even bothered reading the label. He’d simply snapped off the lid and began to drink, ignoring the quiet chattering in the room as he settled down on a sofa. And after that drink, he drank another. And another. Until he was sure he’d either vomit and pass out, or at least be able to wipe that one memory from his brain.

Yet he was already sloshed and it wasn’t working. He was still awake and buzzing, albeit headached and suffering. His head spun and he still felt sick, but not to the point of vomiting _or_ passing out. Maybe if he sat here long enough, head pointed at the ceiling, eyes closed, he’d eventually fall asleep and wake up to an empty, sunlit house.

But then he felt the lounge sink beside him, and his heart dropped. He didn’t want anybody near him right now. He didn’t want to open his eyes to find another awkward, lonely familiar next to him, and certainly not a loud chattery one. Or, God forbid, an energy vampire. A number of those had managed to slither into the room at various times of the night, though most of the familiars were buzzing from alcohol and the elation at having a break from their thankless jobs, and didn’t give in easily.

Guillermo prayed it wasn’t Colin Robinson.

“Nice to see you making the most of my generosity,” came that distinct British accent that could only mean one vampire. He opened his eyes to a squint, regarding Laszlo with a frown. The vampire nodded towards the drink in the man’s hand.

“I bought these drinks,” Guillermo muttered. “With my own money.”

“Yes, but _I_ gave you permission,” Laszlo said.

“Actually it was N—” Guillermo shut his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut again. He couldn’t stop the little whimper that bounced from his throat. He couldn’t even say the vampire’s name.

“Ah, that’s why you’re in here sulking. I should have known…” Laszlo trailed off in a mumble. The lounge shifted again, and Guillermo snapped his eyes open when he felt the vampire lean in close. Felt cold breath against his clean-shaven cheek. “Listen, if you knew how many victims he took into that coffin in the early hours of the morning—”

“I _don’t_ need to know,” Guillermo said firmly. He had some idea, of course. It was up to him to scrub the motley pearl and scarlet stains off the satin lining of Nandor’s coffin after those particular occasions. This was different, though. This was a _date_.

Laszlo sighed and stretched an arm around the back of Guillermo’s shoulders chummily. Guillermo recoiled and dropped his hands into his lap. He stared at Laszlo suspiciously while the vampire spoke. “If I know anything about Nandor, chap: that lady in there with him will be forgotten by tomorrow night.” He pointed in the general direction of Nandor’s crypt.

Guillermo wasn’t convinced; though the rational part of his brain knew he was probably correct. “You don’t think…they’ll date, or something?”

Laszlo snorted and gave him his typical _‘are you an imbecile?’_ frown, and Guillermo ducked his head in embarrassment. “Nandor can’t bloody remember his own surname, do you think he’ll remember some dolly bird he’s picked up off the street for a little romp?” A few heads turned their way at Laszlo’s outburst, and Guillermo felt his cheeks heat up. They reached blazing point when he felt Laszlo’s fingers brush his far shoulder, his arm still draped lazily around him.

“Where’s your good lady wife?” he said through clenched teeth, feeling suddenly exposed. Laszlo’s fingers stroked the shoulder of Guillermo’s jacket absent-mindedly, not in the least bit concerned about their proximity. Which was strange, because he usually couldn’t stand being anywhere near the lowly familiar.

“Off having a fling with one of those jumping vampires, no doubt,” he replied casually. “She adores those things. Very acrobatic in bed, and precious to boot.”

“She’s…on your _wedding_ night?” Guillermo slurred, his jaw becoming slack.

Laszlo shrugged and offered him a haughty smile. “There’ll be plenty more wedding nights in the future, boy. Now…” he looked around them, scoping out the situation and finding himself thoroughly unimpressed. “This place looks boring as shit. Humans really are dreadful creatures.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s say you and I go make our own fun, eh, Gizmo?” Laszlo gave him a wink, and all Guillermo could do was gape, his heart freezing in his chest. Of course, his mind had rushed headlong into the most ludicrous of conclusions, but that wasn’t what Laszlo meant, surely? He could hardly stand to _look_ Guillermo’s way most of the time, let alone be intimate with him in any possible way.

The realization made him relax a little, in a weirdly frustrated sort of way. His embarrassing barge-in on Nandor had left him with a complex array of emotions, but underneath all that flamed an unchecked desire. Laszlo was right – this room was killing him, and he could use an excuse to escape and expend some of this alcohol-fueled energy. Presently he felt like an exhausted puppet being pulled along by strings. A moment later he was an exhausted puppet being pulled along by Laszlo. The vampire had managed to tug him to his feet and gestured for him to follow with a furtive glance here and there; it was like every tiny movement was some secret with this man. Guillermo had to keep himself from rolling his eyes several times as they made their way through the house.

It wasn’t until they began to climb the stairs that Guillermo started to really worry. “Where are we going?” he squeaked. The words had come unbidden. He really did not want to know.

“Your bedroom,” Laszlo said disdainfully, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh…” Guillermo exhaled, and said no more. He refused to think about where this was headed…because, he realized with great shame, he didn’t want to be led to disappointment. The alcohol was _really_ messing with his head now. That had to be it. His hopeful anticipation wasn’t about Nandor or revenge or jealousy, or the fact that he often found himself strangely captivated by the pompous asshole in front him. No; this was purely the effects of too much vodka and too much sugar.

He couldn’t deny, though, that he’d been hoping to gain something from this night. For weeks before, the excitement of the impending wedding had left a scintillating expectation in the air, and the more Guillermo had dwelled on it, the more he’d truly believed that something would happen between him and Nandor on this special occasion.

Instead, it looked like he’d be spending the night – doing God-knows-what – with the _husband of the bride_. Still, he wanted to take away something pleasant from tonight. Something that wasn’t the memory of the man he loved fucking some stranger right in front of him. So whatever Laszlo had in mind; whether it was watching his dumb pornos, talking about bush manipulation, hunting werewolves, or listening to him play his ‘three-way plunk box’, Guillermo would try to make the most of it and have fun and just _forget_.

Laszlo was waiting for him at the door to his room, which Guillermo found kind of amusing, because it wasn’t as if he had to be invited in in his own house. He gingerly stepped past the vampire and opened the door, half falling into it at the same time, causing it to slam loudly against the adjacent wall. Guillermo let out a nervous little giggle. He could almost feel Laszlo rolling his eyes behind his back.

He stumbled into the room and sat down cautiously on the bed, just as Laszlo swung the door shut. It closed with a resolute _click_ , and Guillermo’s heart stopped for a moment. He bit his bottom lip as Laszlo spun around and stuck his hands into his trouser pockets. He was dressed as elegantly as always, in a velvet coat over a crimson vest, a white ruffle blossoming out of its V-neck. His beard was neatly-trimmed as usual, but his hair was disheveled from a night of reveling, his fringe falling down over his brow.

“You look good tonight,” he commented, gesturing to Guillermo’s suit with a bent finger. When Guillermo gawked at him, speechless, the vampire laughed. Maybe he was a little drunk himself – some of those virgins had been drinking, after all. Or maybe he had spotted Guillermo admiring his own outfit and decided that returning a compliment was the proper thing to do. It was hard to tell with Laszlo. “Quite charming,” he added, and Guillermo was _sure_ he heard the vampire slur just a little.

“T-thank you?” Guillermo said, utterly nonplussed. When Laszlo took a step towards him, he automatically slid further back on the bed.

“You shy, boy?” Laszlo teased in his usual condescending tone – yet there was something else hidden in his voice; something thirsty and flirtatious. It was subtle, but Guillermo knew how to read subtleties. “You weren’t shy when you massacred a theatre’s worth of illustrious vampires.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked, dropping lazily onto the bed. “You weren’t shy when you pitched your little semen business to that coven of filthy witches.”

Guillermo shuffled back until he was flat against the wall, eyes wide, lips trembling. “T-that was different,” he said. Laszlo stalked towards him on his knees, but the sensual gleam in his eye had disappeared. He scrunched his brow and grimaced; his face mere inches away from one shocked familiar.

“Did Nandor bury you so far beneath the ground…” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “…that you feel more comfortable with the idea of sacrificing your life for him than allowing yourself a little fun with me…?” he trailed off, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Guillermo’s lips. Guillermo’s heart very nearly erupted in flames. Laszlo’s moustache and wiry beard tickled him, but his lips were surprisingly soft…and gentle. In his current state, Guillermo couldn’t return the kiss. He couldn’t flee. He couldn’t even close his eyes – though his mind was so far away that he may as well have been blind.

Laszlo noticed his sudden paralysis and pulled away, though there was no concern in his eyes. In fact, he smirked, as if misreading Guillermo’s stunned silence as a reaction to his amazing kissing abilities. It took a while for Guillermo’s intoxicated brain to catch up with the situation. By then, Laszlo’s smirk had only grown.

“Gizmo? Have I given you the brain scramblies?” he quipped.

Guillermo remembered to breathe just then, and he inhaled sharply. “If you want to kiss me again, you’re going to have to call me by my real name,” he slurred, then as an afterthought added, “Asshole.” He was wearing his best poker face, but inside he was bowled over by his own audacity. Laszlo appeared to be, too. He raised an eyebrow, thoroughly impressed.

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you, Guillermo,” he said, emphasizing the name, and then he crushed their lips together; this time with so much force that Guillermo hit his head on the wall and saw stars. Laszlo apparently misinterpreted his groan of pain as something far more lascivious, because suddenly he had Guillermo by the lapels of his coat and was hauling him across the bed with superhuman strength. Within the space of a second Guillermo was flat on his back, gasping, the room swimming around him. And then Laszlo was on him, crushing him, sucking out his breath, filling his mouth with the faint, oddly sweet taste of blood. And each time their mouths parted, Guillermo found himself chasing his lips, his heart leaden but his cock straining. God, he was lonely.

“Might want to take these off,” Laszlo murmured, reaching for his glasses.

“So I don’t have to look at your ugly face?” Guillermo breathed, and the mocking outrage on Laszlo’s face made him tilt his head back laugh. Laszlo tossed the spectacles onto the nightstand with a scowl.

“As I said, you’ve got a fucking mouth on you,” he spat. “Why don’t you be useful for once and put it around my cock?” He didn’t wait for Guillermo’s retort. He sat up on his knees and fumbled with his belt, tugging at the decorated pewter buckle. Guillermo’s breath hitched as he shifted up onto his elbows and took in the scene before him. Laszlo was presently unzipping his trousers, eager to free himself, and the sight was so strangely…refined. He looked more handsome now than Guillermo had ever seen him: big, veiny hands working at tugging his pants down; black nail polish catching the light of the lamp. Dark hair falling over his pale forehead; face impassive, save for the way he worried his bottom lip distractedly. In this very moment, framed by the golden light, he looked _incredibly_ handsome.

But then he pulled his cock out, and the spell was broken, and Guillermo made a face. Laszlo scoffed.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t seen this before,” he said, pointing to his scarred member, as if it weren’t already bobbing directly in front of Guillermo’s eyes. Of course he’d seen it – many times. Laszlo had no qualms about showing his nakedness to the world. But he’d also never seen it in extreme close-up – glasses or none. It didn’t look _really_ terrible, as far as Guillermo imagined leprosy scars went. But there _was_ a lot of scarring – crisscrosses of shiny pink; little notches here and there of puckered flesh. Laszlo appeared to be reading his mind.

“Extra ribbing,” he announced proudly, glancing down at his erection. “Just one of the many reasons I’m second-to-none in bed. Well…?”

“I’m not…no,” Guillermo shook his head and frowned, coming back to himself. “I don’t know if I can do this, Laszlo.” He tried to get up, but Laszlo lunged at him, pinning his shoulders to the bed.

“What do you want, boy?” he growled, suddenly sober. His dark, lustful eyes bored into Guillermo’s panic-stricken ones. “And don’t say Nandor. The man is fucking useless in bed.”

“No,” Guillermo breathed. “I don’t…I don’t know what…”

“Then let me decide for you, eh?”

“…Okay…”

Guillermo shut his mouth quickly, balking. Did he just say that out loud? Judging by the curious twinkle in Laszlo’s eyes, and the little knowing smirk that spread out over his lips, yes; he _had_.

Yet when Laszlo undid Guillermo’s trousers and yanked them down along with his briefs, revealing an achingly hard cock, he found his nerves dissolving, only to be replaced by a greedy, bottomless desire. He’d been alone far too long; had been without human – or vampire – touch for as long as he could remember. He’d never been this intimate with anyone, not even Nandor. It was true…he’d been saving himself for Nandor all these years, foolishly hoping. But he was tired of waiting. And he felt miserable. And he was drunk. So drunk.

“You know, I almost expected you to have a cunt,” Laszlo remarked, wrapping a hand around Guillermo’s heavy cock. Guillermo couldn’t think of a smart retort; his brain went blank the moment he felt those thick fingers enfold him. Lazlo’s hand was quick to warm around him, though that probably shouldn’t have been surprising: Guillermo’s cock felt like it was on fire. And when the vampire began to stroke him, torturously gentle, Guillermo arched his back and strangled a loud moan.

“Fuck, you’re sensitive, lad,” Laszlo said, not unkindly. “I’m barely touching you.” The ease in which he stroked him and the casualness of his voice almost made Guillermo laugh. It was a complete contrast to how he himself was acting: jumping at every little touch, hitching his breath at every little word that came out of Laszlo’s mouth. He almost let out a sob when Laszlo removed his hand and ran it downward, cupping his balls, brushing a gentle thumb over them and then massaging them for an excruciatingly brief moment, before running a light finger back up over the swell of his scrotum, back up his shaft. Guillermo was quaking by the time Laszlo took his hand away, and he was hardly aware that he was reaching out, trying to catch it and bring the vampire back to him. He felt suddenly cold.

Laszlo laughed. “Easy, Gizmo, or you’ll be finished before we even get started.”

“Guillermo,” the man corrected under his breath. It was an automatic response; he barely knew what was going on anymore. All he knew was that he needed Laszlo back around his cock in some way or form.

“Keep yourself hard,” Laszlo ordered. “I’m going to get these pants off. Feels like I’m wearing a fucking unitard.” Guillermo obeyed without hesitation, kicking off the trousers around his ankles while he took himself in hand. He watched Laszlo undress, and was surprised when the vampire began to remove his top clothes too; stripping off piece by piece until he stood there pale and naked in the lamplight, his erection clearly on display. Should Guillermo remove his clothes, too? He reached for the buttons of his suit jacket, but Laszlo stopped him. “Leave it on,” he said. “It looks good on you. You ever done anything like this, boy?”

“No,”

“You don’t have any lubricant?”

“Oh…” Guillermo stayed his hand for a moment; he was panting heavily, and the thought of what Laszlo was implying had him craving release. Yet at the same time, he wanted to keep this going all night. His sober-self was gone, drowned in alcohol and lust, and his drunken-self had already thrown caution to the wind and would gladly let the vampire have him in any way he desired. “I have lube,” he said, catching his breath. Laszlo eyed him expectantly, until Guillermo’s head cleared enough to realise that _he_ had to fetch it, of course. He rolled over and opened the drawer of his nightstand, and then blushed severely when he remembered his toy was in there next to the lube. He couldn’t snatch out the lube and slam the drawer shut fast enough.

Laszlo had seen the dark blue dildo and guffawed. “Is that from one

of our orgies?”

“Ew, no!” Guillermo hissed, willing his face to cool down. “It’s one of mine.”

“ _One_ of yours?” Laszlo goaded. “Surprised you can take one that big.”

“It’s not _that_ big,” Guillermo grumbled.

“Still surprised you can take it.”

“Fuck you.”

Laszlo roared with laughter again and then tackled him back onto the bed.

Guillermo let out a surprised squeak with the force of the contact, but when Laszlo attached himself to the man’s neck like a leech, he shivered out a groan of pleasure and breathed, “Oh shit.” The vampire liked using his mouth – and not just for eating, clearly. The gentle kisses he’d gifted earlier were nothing compared to these rough, tearing sucks. Guillermo found himself bucking, searching for some kind of relief for his aching cock, but Laszlo kept him pinned to the bed by the arms, his body lifted just out of reach. He was a fucking tease. He trailed sucking, nipping kisses down Guillermo’s neck, then grazed his collarbone and chest and came to rest his lips on one of his nipples. It sprang erect immediately, and when Laszlo flicked it with his tongue, Guillermo thought he was finally going to lose his mind. Already he felt the sticky trickle of precum on his belly, but somehow, miraculously, he wasn’t quite at the edge of climax yet.

“Laszlo,” he gasped.

“Mmm?” Laszlo grumbled against his nipple, and the vibrations of his voice made Guillermo involuntarily clutch at the bedsheets.

“Can we…I mean…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it, as much as he wanted to. His face was still on fire. “I need you to…can you…”

“Gizmo, are you sure my breathtaking penis didn’t give you the brain scramblies?” Laszlo teased. “Tell me what you want. Don’t be coy with me.” He gave Guillermo’s painfully firm nipple a bite and Guillermo bucked his hips again.

“Fuck…” he tried.

“About that,” Laszlo said, as casually as ever, “If you think you’re going to top me, you can forget about it right now. I might bottom for my lady wife, but I will _never_ bottom for you.”

“What?” Guillermo breathed. In all his inebriation and dizzying pleasure, he had no fucking clue what Laszlo was talking about. Vaguely he heard the snap of a lid opening, and watched in a daze as Laszlo grabbed one of Guillermo’s hands and squeezed a glob of lube into his palm.

“Get yourself ready,” he said.

 _Oh shit_ , Guillermo thought, breathing hard. _This is happening_. His cock jumped in anticipation, but he felt suddenly queasy. It was no big deal, right? He’d tested out plenty of dildos for the vampires in the past, not to mention his own toys. But to lose his virginity (while drunk) to a perpetually horny vampire who could hardly stand him any other time of the year…this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

Laszlo could read him like a book. With an annoyed grunt he wrapped his hand around Guillermo’s dick again, eliciting a gasp that he secretly delighted in, judging by the way his own cock twitched. “Look, if you want your cherry popped by a man who can’t put two coherent thoughts together at the best of times but will gladly tear your head off during intercourse, I can go get Nandor for you right now.” He tightened his grip on Guillermo and gave him a few slow pumps. Guillermo squirmed, embarrassed, but relishing the feeling.

“No,” he said. He didn’t want to think about Nandor right now. Hell, he didn’t really want to think about Laszlo, either. He just wanted to enjoy the attention and care he was currently receiving; God knew how long it would be before he found himself in another situation like this. That thought alone spurred him on. He smeared the lube over two fingers and dipped them under his backside, finding his hole and readying it for Laszlo. All this time the vampire watched, a little sparkle in his eye, and it took all of Guillermo’s self-control not to buck and groan under that gaze and the pleasure he was feeling deep inside. He was almost reluctant to remove his fingers and cease the moment, but he wanted more. He wanted to feel full. He looked up at Laszlo beneath hooded eyelids.

“Well?” he said breathlessly, his syllables slurring together. “Are you going to sit there all night staring at me, or are you going to use that dick you’re always banging on about?”

Laszlo hitched an eyebrow and chuckled. “I knew you’d see sense, boy,” he said proudly. “And now I’m going to fuck it out of you.”

Somehow Guillermo ended up on his knees and elbows, his ass pointed at the kneeling vampire. Laszlo ran his cold hands over the man’s rump, smacking him once (hard enough for Guillermo to yelp), and then dipped his fingers further below to tickle his balls.

“ _Laszlo_ ,” Guillermo whined. He’d probably only been in this position for a minute or two, but it already felt like an eternity. Even in his drunken state he felt terribly exposed. Could the vampire stop fucking around and just get on with it? The last thing Guillermo needed was to go soft with nerves.

“You’re quite eager for me, aren’t you, Gizmo?” Laszlo murmured.

“It’s—”

“Guillermo, I know.” As he said his name, he ran the tip of his slick cock over Guillermo’s hole, sending the man’s nerve endings into a frenzy and causing him to startle, his breath hitching. But the next time Laszlo did it, Guillermo was ready, and he drove himself backwards in want, forcing the head of Laszlo’s cock inside of him. Laszlo bit back a groan and instinctively thrust forward, and a searing pain shot through Guillermo’s insides and he gasped.

“Too much?” Laszlo asked, seemingly unconcerned.

“Just…give me a sec,” Guillermo said, his voice strained. He tried to relax, to allow himself to stretch around Laszlo’s thick cock.

“Try wanking,” Laszlo offered. “Might take your mind off it.” He slid back out, then back in again, slower this time. The burning was still intense, but so was the pleasure, and Guillermo reached down and wrapped a hand around his own cock. It wasn’t the same as having Laszlo’s hand there, but at least he could control it and didn’t have to put up with the torture of soft touches and gentle strokes.

The pain subsided slowly but surely with each thrust, and eventually Guillermo found himself meeting Laszlo halfway, alternating between pushing back on the vampire’s cock and fucking his hand. It wasn’t long before Laszlo’s breathing became ragged, but despite his obvious pleasure he barely made a sound – which was strangely endearing, considering he was usually extremely loud with Nadja (you could be standing out on the street and still hear their frenzied moans, not to mention the banging and crashing of various furnishings).

Guillermo, on the other hand, was gasping and mewling and occasionally letting out embarrassingly loud groans. How could something feel so _good_? Was this what he’d been missing out on all these years while waiting for Nandor? He felt almost foolish. Now that he’d had a taste of sex, he never wanted it to end. And it was that fear – that knowing that this _would_ end, and soon – that had kept him from coming everywhere the moment Laszlo had entered him. But now he was steadily building up to climax.

The pain had almost dissipated when Laszlo hoicked up Guillermo’s coat and shirt and bore down on him. Guillermo let out a cry – half pain and half pleasure – as he was forced onto his stomach; the vampire’s cock filling him fully in this new position. Laszlo surprised him then by trailing kisses up his back; soft and tender like the first kiss they’d shared not so long ago. Guillermo couldn’t reach his dick in this position, but in his heightened state of sensitivity, even the friction against his sheets felt amazing.

Laszlo was panting and grunting now, his thrusts taking on a new level of fervor. “Gigi,” he growled. “I’m close.”

Guillermo balked and cocked his head to the side incredulously. “Did you just call me _Gigi_?”

Laszlo dipped his head and nipped Guillermo’s shoulder through his coat. “I don’t fucking remember what your name is.”

Guillermo let out a raspy laugh and met Laszlo’s next thrust with a force that unexpectedly rocked them both over the edge. “ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned, coming hard into the tangled sheets, his wild bucking sending Laszlo headlong into his own orgasm. The vampire let out his first loud groan of the night and then dropped onto Guillermo, crushing him. The unnatural coolness of his skin felt delicious against Guillermo’s too-warm ass and legs. They stayed like that, recovering, for what seemed like ages, yet it was still far too soon when Laszlo finally rolled off him and stared at the ceiling.

Guillermo’s head was spinning impossibly fast as he rolled onto his side, and it took a good minute or two for his vision to return to normal (or, as normal as it could get without his glasses). He looked at the partly-blurry profile of Laszlo, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; whether to get up and get dressed, or attempt to scoot over and… _no_ …Laszlo was _certainly_ not the cuddly type. Especially when it came to his housemate’s pesky familiar.

Laszlo felt him staring and turned his head to face him. Evidently, he didn’t like what he saw on the man’s face, because he grimaced and sat up before reaching for his trousers. “Don’t go getting sentimental on me,” he warned. “You humans…always mixing sex with bloody affection.”

Guillermo rushed to think of a comeback, but all he got out were various stutters. So he decided to just shut his mouth and get dressed, too. He cleaned himself with the already-spoiled sheet and then picked up his briefs.

“This is _precisely_ why you are stupid for thinking Nandor is going to fall in love with some streetwalker he’s fucked once,” Laszlo admonished. “We just had sex, didn’t we? And we can’t stand each other.”

That should have stung, but it didn’t. In fact, Guillermo had to bite back a laugh. “Well, I mean, I think you’re okay,” he said earnestly.

“And you can wipe that thought from that bumbling brain of yours because _this_ is never happening again,” Laszlo said, gesturing between their bodies for emphasis. He straightened up and adjusted his ruffle. “And if you tell anyone about what happened in this room tonight, I will decorate my crypt with your bollocks.” He paused for dramatic effect, but when he spoke again his voice was gentler, almost tender. “Was good while it lasted though, boy. Thought you’d be as useless as Nandor, but...” he shrugged and left his sentence hanging.

“Uh…” Guillermo felt himself blush. “Thank you, I guess?”

Laszlo scooped to pick up Guillermo’s jacket and flung it at him. Guillermo grabbed for it, dropped it, and Laszlo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Like I said, if you think Nandor is going to fall in love with every trull he brings home—”

“Trull?”

“ _Wench_. Prostitute,” Laszlo said exasperatedly, needlessly dusting the sleeves of his jacket.

Guillermo’s heart stopped for a moment. “ _Prostitute_?”

Now Laszlo looked at him with that same befuddled grimace that he often reserved for the familiar. “What, you think some pretty little piece like that is going to follow your seven-hundred-year-old baboon of a master home simply because she’s bored? No. Nandor paid for her.”

Guillermo blanched.

 _Oh no_.

Had he really just given himself to Laszlo in some kind of rage-fueled attempt at revenge…all because Nandor brought home a _prostitute_? His face dropped into a frown of dismay, but Laszlo’s brightened with realization. He flung his head back and laughed boisterously. “You’re a fucking tomfool, Gizmo,” he said, and gave the man a pat on the shoulder as he went to the door. “I suppose you and Nandor were made for each other, after all.”


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short epilogue. Nandor visits Guillermo briefly before bed

Guillermo didn’t hear the knocks, nor did he hear the door squeak open, or the quiet footsteps approach his bed. He didn’t stir when the lamp flicked on, or when the mattress sunk with the weight of another person. It was probably for the best that he was dead to the world, laying splayed on his stomach, still in his suit, the covers thrown away. He had seemed quite upset earlier when he’d barged into Nandor’s room (uninvited!) and caught him in the middle of rumpy pumpy. 

Nandor sat beside his familiar and watched his face, taking in the way his eyelids fluttered and his lips twitched; the way his brow furrowed and then smoothed back out again. His brain was working away in there; so full of life. What was he dreaming about? Nandor didn’t dream anymore. He couldn’t remember what it was like, much like everything else that came with being alive. But he could live it vicariously through his familiar, in some small way.

Guillermo’s hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. Nandor gently brushed it away and paused, checking for a reaction. When his familiar didn’t stir, he dipped his head and placed a quick, light kiss on his forehead – something he often did but would never, _ever_ admit to. As he sat back, he felt a dampness on his palm and looked down. 

“Euugh!” he hissed, wiping his hand on the closest thing he could find: Guillermo’s sleeve. There was no denying what _that_ stuff was. Then his eyes slid to the bottle of lube laying near the end of the bed and he smiled knowingly, albeit a little grossed out. Naughty Guillermo! Had the impressive sight of his naked, glistening torso excited his familiar? 

He stood up to leave, but stumbled over something in the process. He hissed out a curse and then glanced furtively at Guillermo, but the man was still fast asleep. With a soft growl he kicked the thing away, and it flipped into the lamplight and into view. 

Nandor froze. 

It was a black, pointed dress shoe. But not just any dress shoe: this one was inlaid with crimson velvet, with a faded insignia on the leather tongue. And Nandor knew that if he picked it up and looked beneath the tongue, he would find the inscribed name, “L. Cravensworth.”. 


End file.
